Fire and Smoke
by GoldenHarlequin
Summary: One-shots centered on Cupid and Deadshot. First is an AU set some time after Cupid saved him during their last mission. Second is on Earth-2, where they are both working in the police and it is him who has a crush on her.
1. Fire and smoke

**Fire and Smoke**

In. Out.

He waited patiently for one of the targets to show up, his eyes scrutinizing his surroundings.

A sudden movement on the right. A ringing sound in the air.

The old man who was standing away from the shots startled, wondering how that was possible. He turned his head, looking in his direction with a bewildered expression.

One more to go, the former soldier noted mentally.

In. Out. In-

The breath and the shot were released at the same time. His remaining target fell.

He put down the riffle with satisfaction. Next to him, Cupid applauded excitedly –annoyingly.

"My hero! I knew you could do it! You're the best!" He refrained from snorting. Of course he was. He never missed. Unlike some morons, his name wasn't just for show.

The old man gave them their prize, smiling but a bit warily. The two of them knew that he was not supposed to be able to hit all of the makeshift targets, some of them appearing and disappearing too quickly for that. That was how it worked. Before he tried his luck at the shooting stand to which she had dragged him as soon as she noticed it, the crazy archer who served him as a partner and him had been watching a guy who tried and failed miserably.

But well, _he_ wasn't just some guy. And he even did that with his eye-patch on.

The other woman, the one accompanying the guy who failed, stared at them as Cupid grabbed the bear plush that was half her size and not cumbersome at all, obviously disappointed. The marksman sent a smug look to her boyfriend. The latter glared at him. He waved cheerfully, and they walked away.

"This is so sweet of you!" the redhead beamed. Her smile was actually so bright he swore it could have powered the whole place. But thank God she did not kiss him! He could handle all the stupid names, although it made him feel as if he was dripping with honey, but not _that_.

"Don't imagine things, woman" he replied. "I didn't do it for you." That was true.

The team –if one could call their ragtag and slightly dysfunctional group like that- was currently on a mission to stop a dangerous criminal, but it turned out that they had stumbled upon something far bigger, and as they were waiting for more information from A.R.G.U.S to finish it and go back home, they had found themselves with time in their hands. During one of her explorations of the town, Cupid had spotted a fun fair and had asked him to go with her, pestering him for hours until he had finally caved in. As he had been reminded, shooting your partner is not exactly good for teamwork, no matter how insufferable they could be. So, here he was.

He glanced at the young woman who was looking at the stands, her eyes filled with wonder.

It had nothing to do with the fact that she had been the one to pull him out of the fuming rumbles after the building collapsed, as he had been told after he woke up at the hospital. No, that was something that only John would do, paying a debt; not him. As he told him once, he had no honor and was certainly no hero.

Nah, it had definitely nothing to do with that.


	2. Stick to your guns

**This is now a collection of one-shots!**

 **To Czarna Pantera: thank you for the advice and the encouragements!**

* * *

 **Stick to your guns**

He was diligently filling paperwork when he felt the presence of someone near him. Looking up, he saw a dark-skinned young woman dressed in a shirt and high-waist pants, her black hair gathered in a bun at the nape of her neck.

"Oh. Hi partner," he greeted. "I have found some information concerning our guy's whereabouts." He then proceeded to fumble through the numerous stacks of paper scattered across his desk, threatening to knock half of them over in the process. Smiling kindly, detective Iris West swiftly reached forward and straightened a pile.

"Lawton," she acknowledged him with a nod. "I'm not here for Hoplite." The rummaging came to a stop. She was met with confused, gray blue eyes.

"I-is this about what happened last time, with Singh? Look, I'm very sorry, believe me I am, and you know that I would never — _ever_ — let you down or put your life in danger," he said, a hand over his heart. "I will always be there for you, and you will always be there for me. We are partners; we have each other's back. That's what partners do. And—"

"Lawton," she interrupted gently but firmly.

"Yes?"

"It wasn't your fault that Singh got away. We caught him, right? And I know that I can count on you." His brow furrowed. If it was not about that, then why did she come see him?

"I'm here because I'm going to help on the Plunder case. People are starting to be agitated and worried, and we don't need that at the moment."

He swallowed and looked down at his desk, loosening his bright tie a bit.

"Yes, of course, I understand. With you it will be settled in no time," he smiled, although it was a bit strained. "Do you…do you already know who's going to be my partner?"

Despite being a capable detective, nobody in the department wanted to be paired with him as he was infamously known for his lack of skill when it came to firearms. He could not go anywhere without being followed by the unflattering nickname that had been given to him, or by snickering comments.

 _Hey, Deadshot! Remember it's about shooting the target and not avoiding it!_

 _Are you serious? I refuse to go with him! The guy can't even defend himself! And I don't want to have to call an ambulance because he would have shot himself in the foot!_

 _You're with Lawton? Hope you took extra body armor. Better bring your riot gear too. You know, for the protections._

"It will be Carrie Cutter," she replied.

He was torn between screaming in joy and crying in despair. She squeezed his shoulder in an encouraging gesture that well could have been a comforting one, and left.

All of a sudden, the firing range seemed extremely appealing.

* * *

His deduction turned out to be true; the policewoman could not be described as the epitome of happiness when he joined her outside of the precinct. She was eyeing him critically as he came to a halt next to the car, her pink lips pursed and her arms crossed.

"Hi, Carrie," he smiled nervously.

"That would be detective Cutter for you," she snapped, ignoring his outstretched hand. "Now you'd better listen because I won't repeat myself. You and I? We are not partners. We are _forced_ to work together. If you get in my way, I will dump you. If you slow me down, I will dump you," she stated, jabbing a finger at his chest. "Is that clear? It's already a wonder how you managed to enter the police, and even more how you became a detective."

"Being a detective is not all about shooting the bad guys," he reminded her.

"You think I don't know that? I'm not like those rookies who come all gun blazing and create a mess when chasing a car because they think they are in Fast and Furious."

"You can count on me."

"I highly doubt that, Deadshot." Climbing into the vehicle, she missed the hurt that flashed in his eyes.

The ride to the neighboring city where Hoplite had been sighted was excruciatingly long. She stayed silent all the way, stubbornly focused on the road, and he did not say anything either as he had the feeling that she would not welcome his attempts at conversation, which pained him. To him, knowing your partner was essential for efficient teamwork.

Arriving at the hotel, he realized that there did not seem to be a single ray of light to pierce the heavy clouds that were now covering his life.

Carrie leaned over the receptionist's desk menacingly.

"What do you mean you have only one room booked under these names? That's not possible, I specifically asked for separate rooms."

"I can check again, if you want," the man replied in his lilting voice.

"Do that," she threw her hand dismissively. However, a few clicks later the answer was still the same.

"I'm sorry, but there is no mistake. I have only one room booked under these names." Lawton saw her clench her jaw so hard, that for a moment he thought she was going to break her teeth. She turned and he braced himself.

"If I learn you have anything, and I said _anything_ , to do with this…" She did not finish her sentence, but her tone was clear enough.

With a smile that was as sweet as that of a shark, she snatched the keys from the receptionist's hand and stomped toward the staircase, leaving Floyd alone with the luggage. He was grateful that she was the type of person that brought only what was necessary.

"You know, be more subtle next time," the employee told him as he followed suit.

Lawton turned around and glared at him.

Upon entering the room, he noticed without surprise that Carried had claimed the bed, if the jacket laying on it was any indication. She was on the phone, arguing with a guy working at the department in charge of travels and logistic.

"Cuts in the budget? Are you serious? That is not superfluous! We have to be in top condition to do our job! What if one of us screws up because their partner's snoring kept them awake all night? Yeah, be sure that I will discuss that with our boss!"

She angrily tossed the phone on the bed. "I'm going to take a shower."

He heard a clicking sound after she enter and rolled his eyes. Who did she think he was?

* * *

The following morning, Carrie woke up to someone shaking her gently. Her instinct immediately took over. She grabbed the person's wrist and rolled. Her fist froze in mid-air when she realized that it was none other than Lawton.

"What did you think you were doing?" she hissed. He did not reply, taking in her red hair, free from the stern bun they were usually tied in, her light eyes and—

"I asked you a question!" He snapped back to reality.

"You were still sleeping and I know that you don't like to be late. That bed sure seems comfortable."

She did not pick up on his sarcasm and noticed the circles under his eyes instead.

"Now, you let me go?"

At his words, she realized two things —they were in an embarrassing position, he was fully dressed while she was in her shorts and top. She quickly got up, grabbed her clothing and rushed to the bathroom.

They did not talk about what happened in the morning —why would they, anyway? — but it sure made the stakeout a bit more awkward than it should be. After some investigation, they had found out the location of one of the warehouses used by the criminal known as Hoplite, near the docks. Lawton has always found his name quite interesting. It was meant for warriors in Ancient Greece, and the man had actually been in the military before realizing how much money he could make out of trafficking weapons coming from the battle front.

He was expecting a shipment of weaponry in the evening, and so the two officers were stuck with each other, having nothing to do but to wait and watch the building. Floyd suspected that for his reluctant partner, being in a close and tight space with him without having the possibility to pretend that he was not there was much worse than having to share a bedroom. As for him, he was just grateful for the more comfortable seats.

Seeing him move out of the corner of her eye, she turned her head sharply. He opened the door.

"What are you doing?"

He did not answer.

"Hey, I asked you a question! Where are you going?" she whispered angrily. He still ignored her, and she swore loudly at his retreating from.

When he got back in the car, she was seriously contemplating handcuffing him to the wheel.

"What the hell was that? I swear, if you do that again—"

She stopped abruptly in the middle of what was going to be a long rant about rules, teamwork and communication when the smell of a latte macchiato hit her nostrils. He waited nervously as she stared at him. He must be looking like a stalker for knowing what she liked. However, she eventually took the proffered paper cup without a word and sipped her drink, briefly closing her eyes in appreciation. A smile tugged at his lips.

Hours later, the sky was growing darker and there was still no sign of the criminal and his men.

Cracking her neck, Carrie saw Floyd looking at something in his wallet. She leant over a bit and caught a glimpse of a smiling young girl with blonde hair.

"It's your daughter?"

"Yes. Her name is Zoe."

"Are you close?" she asked, although considering his tone she already had a fairly good idea as to what his answer was going to be.

"I don't see her much. My wife and I are divorced," he confided. "She feared for our family too much because of my job. I've always said that I would protect them, but well," he chuckled deprecatorily. "I suppose even her doubted me."

She swallowed and looked away. "When I was a little girl, I already knew that I wanted to fight the bad guys and to protect people. My father is a policeman, just like my grandfather was before him."

"Seems like our families had both expectations, and only one of us succeeded," he said quietly. She opened her mouth to speak, when they heard the roar of an engine.

"They're here. Follow me and don't do anything stupid or reckless."

They silently approached the truck the outlaws were unloading at the entrance of the warehouse, guns in hand.

"I see our guy, he's talking to someone," she informed Floyd.

"There are two more."

"You take care of them; I'll go after Hoplite and the other." He sighed but agreed nevertheless. Carrie nodded and leapt out of their hiding spot.

"CCPD, don't move!" She fired as they reached for their weapons inside their jackets or at their hips. On her right, a fight was going on.

"I got them!" Floyd exclaimed.

"This is over, Hoplite," she declared with a determined expression, her gun pointed at him.

"Then, why am I smiling?" She was about to retort that she could not quite tell with that ridiculous helmet covering most of his face, when bullets hissed past her. She immediately ran to take cover, flattening herself at the front of the vehicle.

"Lawton!"

"I'm here," he replied as he hastily joined her. He was a bit disheveled but did not seem to be hurt.

"Hoplite is running away," she told him.

"I figured but we can't do anything with these guys shooting at us. Do you even see them?"

"Yes." She swiftly retreated as a projectile dented the metal near her. "Five men coming toward us from the right. We must do something before one of them gives the idea to split up and surround us."

"I'll call for backups."

"So?" she asked some moments later over the gunshots. One of the man collapsed on the ground as she hit his leg.

"They will be here in fifteen minutes." She groaned. "Maybe we could try to get to the car?"

"Too far."

"The truck?"

"Do I look like a car thief? I don't know how to start a vehicle without keys!"

Floyd gulped and frenetically looked for a way to stop them. His eyes landed on a fire extinguisher on the side, near the entrance.

"Try to hold them back as long as you can."

The two remaining criminals were almost on her, but stopped as they were suddenly covered in foam. Lawton knocked them unconscious while they were disorientated and confused.

"Seem that we did not need backups, after all," he declared, turning to the policewoman. Who was no longer there. He swore. And she was the one who chided him about disappearing without warning her, or told him not to do anything stupid.

"Carrie!" he shouted, prudence and discretion be damned, as he went farther inside the building.

"I'm here!" she answered. He ran toward the noise, ready to give her a piece of his mind, and skidded as he came to a halt.

She was with Hoplite, who had an arm wrapped over her to prevent her from moving, and a gun on her temple.

Worst case scenario ever. Why were backups so slow when you needed them?

"Move and she dies," warned the dark-skinned man with a muscular build.

"Let her go!"

"Lower your weapon," he commanded, all calm and quiet confidence. "We both know you're not going to shoot. Or rather that you can't shoot," he said, looking at his hands that were shaking.

Floyd tightened his grip and looked at Carrie.

"Do what he says, Lawton."

"See? Even your partner knows that it's the right thing to do."

"He's going to kill you, Cutter!"

"The mission is more important than me."

"No! You're my partner, I can't let you! I won't let you!"

She squeezed her eyes shut.

There was the sound of gunshot, and then a cry of pain.

Next thing she knew, Floyd was at her side.

"You're alright?" he inquired, his voice tight, brushing hair out of her face.

She merely nodded, too astonished that she was safe and unharmed. Turning, she saw her aggressor on the floor, crawling to reach his gun. She kicked it out of his reach and restrained him, just when backups finally arrived.

Floyd insisted that someone checked over her for injuries, and once the medic was finished he joined her at the back of the ambulance, where she was sitting.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," she smiled lightly.

"See, we caught the bad guy."

"Indeed, we did." There was a short pause.

"I heard that you're fine."

"Yes, I have no injury, not even a graze."

"I will have to lie when filling my report, otherwise nobody will believe me," he joked.

"I would know the truth," she remarked.

As he said nothing, studying her face, she continued. "Thank you, for saving my life. I must say that I did not think you would be able to do it."

"I was actually aiming for his head."

"That's not reassuring at all, Floyd," she frowned, which made him chuckle. "I'm also sorry for everything I said to you, and how I treated you."

"I will not accept your apology, unless it's over dinner," he replied, his eyes gleaming mischievously. She slapped his arm, a light smile on her lips.

"Don't push your luck, partner.


End file.
